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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25612363">Warmth When I Shiver In Cold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodlighting/pseuds/moodlighting'>moodlighting</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Developing Relationship, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, M/M, Middle Ages, Pre-Relationship, Temporary Peril, Winter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:54:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25612363</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodlighting/pseuds/moodlighting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps he and Yusuf were simply companions, in the most common understanding of the word. <em>Com panis</em>—those who break bread together. Each day they shared their meals, water skins and unleavened bread passing silently from hand to hand. For endless months they had walked in each other’s steps, remaining at each other’s sides through the desert sands and now through the snow. There was not…love between them, however; not as Nicolò had known it. They had set aside the hate that had once turned their swords against each other, but what remained was unquantifiable. </p><p>It vexed Nicolò, frustrated him to wit’s end. Trudging along behind him, Nicolò stared at the back of Yusuf’s head, watched his cloak as it billowed in the wind. He felt he had not taken his eyes off Yusuf once since the day they first laid down their weapons and clasped arms in mutual surrender. And still Nicolò could not understand his own heart. </p><p>All Nicolò knew was that as heaven and earth so moved, he would not be parted from this man.</p><p>
  <em>On a journey through the northern wilds, Nicolò and Yusuf grow closer.</em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>569</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Warmth When I Shiver In Cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I did very minimal research for this fic, so any historical accuracy you might find is entirely coincidental. It's very likely that none of this is medically accurate either, as most of it was learned and borrowed from The Day After Tomorrow (2004) lmao. I hope you find it enjoyable nevertheless &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The lake before them was wide, a great yawning expanse of white, devoid of life or sound. It seemed to go on endlessly, the far horizon vanishing into gray winter sky wherever Nicolò’s eyes came to rest. This was the furthest north he had ever traveled, and the landscape felt utterly foreign to Nicolò. His breath disappeared like wisps of smoke in the frigid air as he stood at the edge of the shoreline. Where water would lap against sand in the warmer months, his boots now sank into snow.</p><p>From behind him came the sound of footsteps approaching. Yusuf slowed to a stop at Nicolò’s side, equally arrested by the sight. Together, they stared out across the daunting expanse of frozen water they would now have to cross. From the edge of Nicolò’s vision, he saw Yusuf turn to him. Beneath his large furred hat, Nicolò could see the disbelieving raise of his brows.</p><p>On their journey north, Nicolò and Yusuf had gradually traded away the southern trinkets they carried—shiny and exotic, valuable in their unfamiliarity—for the heavy winter garments they now wore; coarse surcoats and long cloaks with fur, thick woolen trousers and sturdy boots made of leather, hats and oversized hand coverings lined with fur so soft it caught against the rough skin of Nicolò’s fingertips.</p><p>His nose was pink and ice-bitten where his face remained exposed, but otherwise the garments had served their purpose well—Nicolò could hardly feel the bitter wind as it swelled across the surface of the lake. Beside him, Yusuf grimaced and turned his head to the side, the sharp gust battering the furs instead of his face.</p><p>His gaze found Nicolò’s again when it passed. “Well,” he said, displeased. “There’s no sense in waiting for it to get warmer.”</p><p>In tandem, they both stepped from land and onto the ice.</p><p>Nicolò had no fear of water. In Genova, he had been raised as much by the Ligurian Sea as his father and mother. This ice, however, he did not trust. In the last scrap of town they’d passed through, the villagers had assured Nicolò and Yusuf that the ice would be strong; that the winter had been cold and fierce, with an early freeze. Yet Nicolò remained hesitant to set his full weight upon the creaking expanse of it. He tread as carefully as his boots would allow, attempting to spread his weight between his feet and the pair of long ice staffs they’d bartered for in the village.</p><p>Ahead of him, Yusuf seemed far more confident in the integrity of the ice, footfalls crunching evenly through the snow as he picked out a path across the surface of the lake. The wind howled angrily in the widening space between them, an unwanted third companion that quickly made conversation impossible, even if Nicolò had desired it.</p><p>Despite the long silences they often found themselves caught in, he and Yusuf did not have a great deal to speak of. They were not—friends. That word, Nicolò feared, was too deep for the terse, uneasy trust that had developed between them across their decades of travel.</p><p>Yet, in the same moment, Nicolò would argue that “friendship” was not profound enough to encompass all that he and Yusuf shared. Together, like brothers, they were bound by this singular gift that had been bestowed upon them both, a knot of unending life God had seen fit to tie between the two of them. For all that he knew of brotherhood, however, the feeling that gripped Nicolò’s chest when his eyes fell upon Yusuf was not one he recognized. In all his life and many deaths, it was not a feeling he had experienced before, neither for his brothers in arms nor his brothers in blood.</p><p>In the end, perhaps he and Yusuf were simply companions, in the most common understanding of the word. <em>Com panis</em>—those who break bread together. Each day they shared their meals, water skins and unleavened bread passing silently from hand to hand. For endless months they had walked in each other’s steps, remaining at each other’s sides through the desert sands and now through the snow. There was not…love between them, however; not as Nicolò had known it. They had set aside the hate that had once turned their swords against each other, but what remained was unquantifiable.</p><p>It vexed Nicolò, frustrated him to wit’s end. Trudging along behind him, Nicolò stared at the back of Yusuf’s head, watched his cloak as it billowed in the wind. He felt he had not taken his eyes off Yusuf once since the day they first laid down their weapons and clasped arms in mutual surrender. And still Nicolò could not understand his own heart.</p><p>All Nicolò knew was that as heaven and earth so moved, he would not be parted from this man.</p><p>Adjusting the heft of the furs across his shoulders, Nicolò gathered his cloak tighter around his body, shrinking into its shield of warmth. The wind was unrelenting, a ceaselessly numbing force, sharp against any slip of skin left exposed to the air. Nicolò gazed over his shoulder, back in the direction they had come. The shore was not yet far behind. Perhaps Yusuf would be agreeable to delaying their crossing until morning—maybe the wind would have passed by then.</p><p>Nicolò was just preparing to call out to him when a deep, resounding <em>boom</em> echoed across the lake, like a distant blast of saltpeter and sulfur. Nicolò drew his sword from his belt on instinct. Following the momentum of the swinging blade, he turned in place, searching each direction for the source of the sound. Yet their surroundings remained just as white and barren as before; strange and beautiful, without a single shadow of an enemy advancing or a hulking beast in sight.</p><p>They were alone.</p><p>Frowning, Nicolò turned again to Yusuf, who was staring back at him, his dark brows furrowed. The grip of his sword loosened in Nicolò’s palm.</p><p>Raising his voice above the wind, Yusuf called out, “What was -”</p><p>He was not able to finish the question. With a sudden, otherworldly <em>crack</em>, the ice beneath Yusuf’s feet fractured and split in two, plunging him deep into the frigid water below.</p><p>Nicolò was sprinting across the ice before his mind even registered the thrash of his arms disappearing into the water.</p><p>“<em>Yusuf!</em>”</p><p>The name was torn from Nicolò’s throat without warning, his voice unrecognizable even to his own ears. The sound of it reverberated across the empty expanse of the lake, a single desperate note, soon drowned out by the chorus of cracking ice.</p><p>A stone’s throw away, the hole of open water yawned wider and wider as each successive slab of ice broke from the whole and drifted away. Even from a distance, Nicolò could already feel the frozen ground beneath his boots beginning to waver and give way, threatening to plunge him into the water alongside Yusuf.</p><p>Stumbling backwards, Nicolò dropped to his knees and then to his stomach, attempting to evenly distribute his weight across the unstable surface.</p><p>He could not help Yusuf if the lake took him as well.</p><p>Under Nicolò’s palms, freezing water spilled across the flat expanse of ice, washing away any remaining snow, leaving the surface wet and slick. He couldn’t gain purchase against it. Using his teeth, Nicolò ripped the slippery leather coverings from his hands and tossed them aside. He clawed his bare fingernails into the ice and dragged himself as close as he could to the open mouth that had swallowed Yusuf whole.</p><p>Yusuf had not yet resurfaced from its depths.</p><p>“Yusuf,” Nicolò all but pleaded with the empty expanse of water. There was no response, only the floating slabs of ice winking back at him, jagged and white against the lapping black water. “<em>Yusuf!</em>”</p><p>And then he appeared, a dark head emerging from even darker water. The moment his face breached the surface, Yusuf sucked in desperate, wheezing breath. The painful sound of it sent Nicolò’s heart pounding against his ribs. It was like the cold grip of the water had choked all the air from Yusuf’s lungs.</p><p>“Yusuf,” Nicolò gasped, straining forward to catch his arm.</p><p>Yusuf couldn’t breathe, and Nicolò was still too far out of reach. The ice would surely collapse under his weight if he moved any closer.</p><p>Searching frantically for anything he could use to close the distance between them, Nicolò’s gaze landed upon his sword, abandoned an arm’s length away in his urgency to reach Yusuf. Launching himself across the ice, Nicolò took the blade in his hands and swung it back around, extending the full length of it, pommel-first, to Yusuf.</p><p>“Take this!” he called out to Yusuf, who was struggling to stay afloat, the paralyzing chill of the water immobilizing his limbs. His head slipped under water for another long moment before bobbing weakly back to the surface. Nicolò could feel his heart in his throat. “Yusuf, take this, please! Swim to me, follow the sound of my voice!”</p><p>The freezing cold seemed to have stolen away Yusuf’s mind, leaving him stunned and disoriented in the water. He swung his arms wildly above his head, blindly seeking out Nicolò.</p><p>“There!” Nicolò yelled, when the back of Yusuf’s hand collided with the crossguard of his sword.</p><p>With a ragged gasp, Yusuf stroked weakly forward until he was able to wrap his fingers around the hilt. Clenching his teeth, Nicolò gripped his hands around the blade, making two fists against the sharpened edges, and <em>pulled</em>.</p><p>He could feel the burn of the blade as it carved deep into his palms, through the muscle and down to the bone. Bright crimson blood spilled freely from his hands and onto the ice, a shock of color against the sheer white surface. Nicolò did not know if he screamed—he could hardly feel the pain, focused as he was on towing Yusuf through the water. With one final pull, Yusuf’s elbows landed on top of the ice, his body braced against the broken edge of the hole. Nicolò flung the sword aside. Hooking his hands under both of Yusuf’s arms, Nicolò gathered whatever strength remained inside him and heaved the soaking weight of Yusuf’s body out of the freezing water.</p><p>He did not wait to discover whether the ice could support them both. Scrambling to his feet, Nicolò twisted his hands into the thick layers of clothing at Yusuf’s shoulders and ran, dragging him bodily back in the direction of the shore. A line of lakewater and blood trailed in their wake, a slick blush of red seeping across the ice.</p><p>As soon as Nicolò felt his feet hit firm, frozen earth once more, he let go of Yusuf, sending him tumbling back haphazardly into the snow. Eyes clenched shut, Yusuf’s entire body spasmed with chill, shivering down to the very tips of his fingers. It was the only indication he was still alive.</p><p>Dropping to his knees beside him, Nicolò’s hands fluttered anxiously across Yusuf’s body, seeking out any injuries, ensuring he was still whole and living. When his fingers reached Yusuf’s face, Nicolò was met with dark brown eyes, open and staring back at him, dazed.</p><p>“Ni-Nicolò,” Yusuf croaked out, shuddering, the name breaking apart in his throat. “Y-you’re blee-eeding.”</p><p>Nicolò glanced down at his hands. Blood was still pouring liberally from his palms, red stains blooming across the wet fabric of Yusuf’s clothing in every place he had touched him.</p><p>Nicolò dismissed both the wounds and Yusuf’s concern. “It will heal,” was all he said before setting upon Yusuf once more.</p><p>He worked quickly, guiding Yusuf to his knees and unclasping the soaking cloak from around his shoulders. The fabric dropped heavily back into the snow with an ugly wet sound. Yusuf’s surcoat and tunic followed next, pulled over his head by Nicolò and cast carelessly aside, leaving Yusuf in only his smallclothes, a single wet shirt plastered thin and translucent against his chest.</p><p>“Wh-what a-a-are you d-doing?” Yusuf gasped, though he was not fighting Nicolò’s hands. Whether that was due to the immobility of his own limbs or a true lack of protest, Nicolò could not say.</p><p>“We have to warm your body,” Nicolò explained. He stripped Yusuf of his left boot next—the right, along with Yusuf’s furred hat, had been lost to the lake. “The cold will stop your heart.”</p><p>Despite the life rapidly leaching from his body, Yusuf had the audacity to laugh. He might have waved a dismissive hand through the air, if only he had the strength.</p><p>“It w-will start again s-s-oo-oon enough,” Yusuf chuckled. “Or have y-you f-forgotten? We ca-a-annot die.”</p><p>Nicolò paused his ministrations long enough to hold his gaze. “And how do you expect your body to heal if it is frozen?”</p><p>Yusuf opened his mouth as if to belabor the point further, then promptly shut it again, his head tilting to the side in unspoken concession.</p><p>There was no further argument. Taking Yusuf’s wrists in his hands, Nicolò folded his arms across his chest, tucking Yusuf’s trembling hands into the warmth of his underarms. Yusuf sat shivering but compliant though it all, allowing Nicolò to silently arrange his body as he saw fit.</p><p>Nicolò pulled the hat from his head and yanked it down over Yusuf’s ears. He then removed his cloak, still mostly dry, and swung it around Yusuf’s shoulders, bundling him into the long folds of the cloth. Then, much like he had done for Yusuf, Nicolò unbuckled the belt from his waist and pulled his own surcoat over his head.</p><p>Yusuf’s eyes grew wide. “Wha-” he began, but was cut short by Nicolò, who wound his arms around his middle and pulled Yusuf sharply to his chest.</p><p>“I am using my body to warm yours,” Nicolò explained, positioning himself tightly against him. With his outermost garments removed, the life and warmth of Nicolò’s body was able to flow freely into Yusuf’s.</p><p>A sense memory sparked at the forefront of Nicolò’s mind. Their bodies had been this close before, in the many years Nicolò had spent trying to end Yusuf’s life. Now, Nicolò could only think to use his body to save him.</p><p>Pressed together as they were, Nicolò could feel the uneven pounding of Yusuf’s heart against his own chest, the shallowness of each breath he took, expanding weakly against Nicolò’s arms. Nicolò had never been so aware of another man’s body—had never felt so intent on defending the life inside it, even to his own detriment. Spreading his hands wide across Yusuf’s back, Nicolò gathered Yusuf closer, hooking his chin over his trembling shoulder, enveloping him completely. The ice crystals in Yusuf’s hair stung Nicolò’s skin as they melted into droplets against the warmth of his cheek.</p><p>There was a long interlude of silence then, where only the wind spoke between them. Nicolò did not know how long they sat, knees folded together and bodies intertwined, shielding one another from the cold. It might have been hours before the chill assaulting Yusuf’s body finally began to subside. Gradually, the constant chatter of Yusuf’s teeth surrendered to warm, steady exhales against Nicolò’s throat. The trembling seizure of his muscles unlocked one by one, slowly releasing the tension from Yusuf’s body. His weight sagged deeper into Nicolò’s embrace until he was all but cradling Yusuf in his arms.</p><p>After some time, Yusuf allowed his head to gently settle against Nicolò’s shoulder. “Where did you learn this type of northern medicine?” he asked, finally breaking their silence. He was still shivering slightly. “Or does it often snow in Genova?”</p><p>Nicolò laughed quietly, the movement of his shoulders jostling them both. “My father,” he explained after a moment. “He trained as a physician. He learned many remedies he had no practical use for.”</p><p>Yusuf nodded in understanding, his beard scraping against the bare skin of Nicolò’s neck. “You were also training to be a physician? Before...”</p><p><em>Before the war</em>. <em>Before Jerusalem</em>. Yusuf left the words unsaid, but Nicolò heard them as clearly as if he’d spoken them aloud.</p><p>Those were days they had both left far behind, however; Nicolò did not linger in their darkness now.</p><p>“No,” Nicolò said, a small smile forming across his lips. “I just liked to read my father’s books.”</p><p>Nicolò felt it when Yusuf began to smile too, the crook of his mouth warm against Nicolò's neck.</p><p>“I’m very glad you did,” was all Yusuf said.</p><p>Another length of breath passed between them. Then, following his palms from the curve of Yusuf’s back up to his shoulders, he gently separated their bodies. Sitting back on his heels, Nicolò hesitated to meet Yusuf’s eyes, unsure of what he would find there. He focused instead on securing the cloak around Yusuf’s front, now left exposed by their parting.</p><p>Nicolò could feel where the front of his own tunic had gone damp from holding Yusuf close; the chill of the breeze turned the spot to ice. Nicolò shivered.</p><p>It was when he met Yusuf’s gaze, soft and dark, that the cold began to melt.</p><p>“Are you warm?” Nicolò asked him, watching Yusuf intently.</p><p>Yusuf nodded in response, hands still tucked under his arms for added heat. “And very tired.”</p><p>Without thought, Nicolò reached out and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, as if now that the unseen boundary holding them apart had been breached, Nicolò could not help but touch him.</p><p>“I will make camp,” he told Yusuf. “You just sit here and try not to fall into any more holes.”</p><p>Yusuf laughed softly and let him go.</p><p>Nicolò’s hands were fully healed, the splitting of his palms only a memory by the time he finished pulling the tent lines taut. It was perhaps the fastest he had ever assembled a tent—driven to efficiency by the exhaustion quickly setting in, the air growing steadily colder around him as the pale winter sky darkened into evening.</p><p>At the sound of canvas tent walls rippling in the wind, Yusuf rose shakily to his feet, the trembling ache of his spent muscles evident in every step he took. Inside the tent, Nicolò had spread their bedrolls close, certain they would both need the additional warmth as the temperature continued to fall. Yusuf collapsed onto his with an indulgent groan, as if the thin pallet was as lavish as the canopied featherbed of a lord.</p><p>It made Nicolò smile.</p><p>Sighing a deep breath of sleep, Yusuf curled into his sheep’s wool blanket and did not stir again. Tonight their parting goodnights would go unspoken, but Nicolò found it to be nothing of consequence. Carefully, he lowered himself onto his own bedroll and settled in close, nestling forward until his front was pressed firmly to the length of Yusuf’s back.</p><p>Bowing his head, Nicolò let his forehead come to rest in the narrow space between Yusuf’s shoulder blades. When his eyes finally slipped shut, it was to the sound and rhythm of Yusuf’s steady heartbeat, the returned warmth of his body a new and unexpected comfort. Nicolò placed one hand gently upon Yusuf’s waist and allowed himself to feel it.</p><p>At the edge of a frozen lakeshore, where no man of Genova had ever walked, Nicolò had saved the life of Yusuf al-Kaysani for the first time. And as the lines of their bodies slowly melted together in the chill of the northern twilight, Nicolò knew in his heart it would not be the last.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading! Stay safe and cozy everyone &lt;3</p><p><a href="https://mooodlighting.tumblr.com/post/625092106644537344/warmth-when-i-shiver-in-cold-perhaps-he-and-yusuf">fic post</a> | <a href="https://mooodlighting.tumblr.com">my writing blog</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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